Freedom in Chains
by The Bride of Bronn
Summary: Kirei Kotomine loved no one. Gilgamesh cannot love anyone but himself. Ultimately, their relationship evolves and devolves until neither man could really claim he was ever in control of it in the first place. An AU set in a series of flashbacks and present events. Told in switching second-person POVs.
**STORY SUMMARY** : _Kirei Kotomine loved no one, and cares only to witness the searing moment when the world burns once more upon his instigation. Gilgamesh cannot love anyone but himself since losing his only friend eons ago, and so participates in a war in order to kill time, seeing as it provides him with enough entertainment. With goals that both perfectly align and are parallel with each other, both priest and god-king have lived together for a decade in mutual co-existence. In doing so, they learned things about one another they would rather not have known at all but were secretly amused to have discovered anyway. Ultimately, their relationship evolves and devolves until neither man could really claim he was ever in control of it in the first place._

 _An AU route set in a series of flashbacks and present events. Told in switching second-person POVs._

* * *

 **Chapter Summary:** In which Kirei is _not_ jealous

* * *

 **Blindsided**

The first time he starts calling you 'Kotomine', you felt a sense of unease, the kind of disquiet marked with annoyance and shame. You did not understand his sudden shift to formality when addressing you; and the rather impersonal reference to your person was unexpected only because everything about Gilgamesh wants to claim and initiate an intimacy in a level that would drive lesser men mad.

For ten years, he had crowded your breathing space, taking you apart piece by piece only so he could put you back together in ways he thought would please the both of you.

Sometimes, if you were being honest, you would admit that he knew what was best for you, more so than any other patriarch who pretended to understand you. For Gilgamesh had known you intimately, knew which broken shard of you can cut the deepest and which ones are poisoned and deadly. He has peeled you back to reveal the cloying darkness, and helped you weaponize what others would have considered spoiled and rotten. He was—and still is—in many ways, your Creator.

But now—now he starts calling you with your late father's last name and no longer by your mother's ironic choice of a first name. _Just as well_ , you thought, after a few more instances of this. It began happening more often that you finally stopped letting it bother you. You'd like to attribute it to the fact that Gilgamesh has been distracted lately because of Saber. With the presence of that damnable woman, everything else for Gilgamesh has become inconsequential for there is only the pursuit of possessing her. This doesn't upset you. It shouldn't.

After all, it couldn't possibly be deliberate. You are sure that if Gilgamesh became aware of how he changed the way he was addressing you that he would correct that slight mistake in an instant. A few more weeks passed and he never did.

You won't point out this blunder because you know Gilgamesh would not appreciate the insolence, so you focused on what was more important and ignored the tightness in your gut whenever Gilgamesh is in the same room with you but won't even look at you, at least not as much as he did years ago when you were the most riveting object of interest he had ever beheld.

You would ignore how Gilgamesh kept his distance, how he would no longer run his fingers on your crucifix in a gesture both absentminded and purposeful as he no longer looked deeply into your eyes as he whispered his observations that usually contain stunning revelations that were aimed to liberate your character.

You would ignore the hollowness in your chest that had always existed even before you met Gilgamesh, but somehow that emptiness was greatly punctured with the awareness that your Creator—a decade after he had filled that same hole with something akin to real feeling—had ceased to give a damn about you.

You ignored these stirrings long enough not to begin loathing Gilgamesh. You would not loathe him for installing himself indiscriminately in your daily life; you would not loathe him for hoarding you all to himself for so many years only to discard you now that he has encountered a more superior and challenging replacement.

That would be childish. That would imply that you actually cared whether or not you meant something more to Gilgamesh other than the role of a Fool you had vowed to play to keep him entertained while he remained tethered to this world. You are not arrogant. You do not possess an ego or a vanity that would make you believe otherwise that Gilgamesh actually considered you as an equal.

You were not upset by this.

* * *

This was true because one night, when Gilgamesh did bother to stop by the church, probably because he was feeling generous enough to grant you the opportunity to be in his presence again, you welcomed him instantly, quickly shaking off the foolish doubts you had about your alliance prior to the meeting itself. He sat in one of the pews with his legs folded in the lewdest pose that still managed to be gratingly graceful at the same time. Gilgamesh slouched and folded his arms behind his back, and the audible sound of his breathing was an indication that you weren't hallucinating his presence. And this time he actually looked at you again, not _through_ you, as he had done for weeks since Saber's arrival, while he spoke about her, asked you questions about her, all the while with a dazed expression of joyous relief on his face that looked far too malicious to be considered earnest.

He made a passing comment or two about Shirou Emiya as you stood there gazing at him, and if you were in a more indulgent mood you would have opened up and told Gilgamesh about the delightful fantasies you've been having about said brat. But he caught you in your most pensive hour when verbalizing your thoughts prove to be a futile, useless activity for you at least for the time being. Gilgamesh narrowed his serpentine gaze at you for a few seconds before he rolled his entire body to face you. He moved seemingly boneless, and it was as if the pew he was sitting on was made of water rather than something solid. He smiled in that familiarly vulgar way he does as he informs you that certain pleasures that you beseech will be satiated once the storm worsens and sweeps away everyone and everything in its calamity.

Quietly, you asked him in all seriousness whether or not he was referring to the Holy Grail War or himself. And Gilgamesh only laughed in response. The sound was once again familiar, and you relax your stance upon hearing it.

Gilgamesh has gotten up, eyeing you with renewed curiosity. You've forgotten how the King of Heroes' mere presence has a tendency to lessen the silence. It was a silence you grew up in that used to make you feel so uncomfortable, as if you have something to be afraid of, like monsters that will take you away if you're not careful to fill those gaps with prayer and devotion. It was a foolish, uneducated belief that your father had nurtured when you were younger, possibly to further reinforce his holy doctrine on you. Now you know the truth; there are no monsters wanting to prey on you because now you are the predator, and this role grants you the power to transform yourself into the very nightmare other children would fear.

The silence still exists, however, and Gilgamesh's presence was the only thing that makes you forget about it. Gilgamesh forces you to focus on him entirely that you could ignore almost everything when you have conversations together. This was probably the one thing you miss about him when he's not around. But you won't admit it because it sounded childish and weak and stupid. You don't miss people, even if Gilgamesh could not be considered as 'people'.

"Kotomine," he calls you now, crossing his arms as he leaned his weight against the pew behind him. "You look more glum than the usual—I'll say even more glum than I remember in weeks since the War began taking shape weeks ago. I thought it pleased you to encounter Kiritsugu Emiya's pitiful excuse of an heir. Why do you look less than celebratory about this?" Gilgamesh looked annoyed because he couldn't figure it out for once, "Don't be stingy and speak up! Tell me what ails you."

You chose that moment to try and irritate him. "It surprises me that you would even notice my change in moods, King of Heroes. You and I have been seeing each other less, and I was under the impression that you are too preoccupied with your engagement with Saber to even spare me a thought or two."

"You are trying to imply something and refusing to be direct about it," Gilgamesh instead remarked, frowning now. "You know I don't tolerate your reticence anymore. It seems to me, Kotomine," he took a few languid steps closer, "that you have forgotten that I know you better than anyone including yourself, and I can assure you that even when I am not close or standing right in front of you as I do now, I still think of you; especially when it comes to what your filthy mind is up to."

You smirk at the affirmation that he does, after all, think of you. "If you do know me better than anyone, then why can't you figure out for yourself why you believe I'm being glum right now?"

"Enough," One moment there was still a few yards that separated the two of you, and the next Gilgamesh was already clutching the collar of your garments, pulling you down slightly so you two can stare at each other clearly. "I don't like you withholding from me, Kotomine. Don't test my patience."

You merely stared into his crimson eyes and said nothing. Gilgamesh loosened his hold for just a minute as he continued to speak.

"Consider the earlier years before we have established an alliance," he explained, "and think of those times as some sort of…courtship. After you and I forged a bond as Master and Servant, think of that as the moment when we made our relationship an official, functional one. A marriage, if we wish to keep the metaphor consistent."

You only blinked at him. You still didn't say anything even if the very metaphor he was using to illustrate his point somehow didn't sit right with you.

"With any marriage, there should be an open channel for communication and a willingness for compromise," Gilgamesh reached out his other hand to touch your cheek, cupping it in his palm. You tried not to flinch away. You didn't exactly want to, anyway, and the thought should repulse you but Gilgamesh's physical proximity was something so ingrained in you at this point that his nearness shouldn't be so shocking. And yet…

...his touch lingering on your skin does make you feel sick, though not of revulsion.

So what is it...?

You willed yourself to focus on what he was saying next. "And you and I have enough experience over the years of our partnership to understand that as long as we remain honest with one another, misunderstandings or petty conflicts can be avoided." His hand on your face lowered on your throat and now both his hands are flexing around your neck as if he wasn't sure whether or not he was going to choke you. "Now, tell me, Kotomine. Do you want to nullify this beneficial arrangement of ours, this co-existence of mutual interests? Is that why you are being stubbornly vague? Are you suddenly so confident that you can get what you desire the most that you have no qualms of getting rid of me?"

"What makes you believe I am hiding anything from you, King of Heroes?" You make no move or attempt to try and physically respond, knowing that your immobilization would at least give the notion of subservience. "And this talk of yours—you're starting to sound paranoid and insecure. Those are not qualities that I would ever associate with you, King of Heroes. But now you exemplify them."

Gilgamesh snorted. "Your insults are misplaced because I know you are merely trying to deflect from the issue at hand by thinking your hollow words could offend me."

He tightened his grip on your throat but you still kept your eyes fixed intently on his.

"So the very notion of me keeping secrets from you makes you angry?"

"But of course, Kotomine," he was smirking now, "It shows defiance against me and I will not stand for it. You don't get to act so high and mighty around me."

"I think, King of Heroes," you finally place a hand on top of one of his which are still clutching your neck, "that you mistake me for a certain blonde knightress."

His eyes darkened, if it was even possible, as he lowered his hands from your neck and took a step back. For a while he said nothing and he just stared at you with open repugnance. You didn't coil from that and instead continued to hold his gaze.

Then, Gilgamesh smiled with a kind of smugness that you recognized from the past as a cusp between condescending and insane. You start feeling uncomfortable.

"What is this?" he remarked, still grinning, "Do I detect a hint of jealousy?"

That gave you pause. You don't even know what 'jealousy' entailed. It was an emotion, that you understood, but like most emotions, you have never felt it. You are sure of it. Your short pause apparently was long enough to confirm Gilgamesh's ridiculous accusation, however, because now he started laughing, bending down slightly to clutch at his stomach.

You feel the need to defend yourself, "I wouldn't know how jealousy feels, Gilgamesh. You can't possibly think I would have an inkling of an idea about it, let alone feel it, especially towards Saber. That would mean…" you trailed off, your eyebrows furrowing, signaling your frustration because there was something you couldn't figure out all of a sudden. But you tried to explain again, "…that would mean I feel entitled to you as if you are my lover. And as unusually befitting it was to call our partnership a marriage, it remains one that is borne out of pragmatic reasons as oppose to anything else. I don't…I can't be jealous."

Hearing yourself say it especially following the logic you had imposed made the possibility that you were ever jealous sound even more absurd and stupid.

Gilgamesh finally stopped laughing. He was just grinning at you now.

"It's not true," you repeated again, this time with more conviction.

"I see," Gilgamesh simply answered.

What an asshole. You gritted your teeth together and refused to say anything as well, just glaring at the offensive creature standing in front of you, acting as if he had discovered precious knowledge that he can once again lord over your head.

"Well," Gilgamesh began, "I suppose you want me to leave."

You narrowed your eyes at that.

"Clearly, you can't stand the sight of me," Gilgamesh remarked, "Not when it serves to remind you how much you covet but couldn't have me."

"That sounds like something that Saber herself would say to you," you shot back, not caring of whatever wrath you may incur by being disrespectful to the King of Heroes. It was more mercifully preferable than his current treatment of you.

But nothing could foul Gilgamesh's good mood at this point. He was still smiling. "All right, Kirei, no need to be unpleasant. I'll leave you to your contemplations and empty prayers for now. But I'll be here tomorrow. How does brunch sound?"

"It sounds horrifying, coming from you. I have never heard you use such a modern expression, nor even suggest partaking in it yourself."

"Hybrid mealtimes are an odd invention of these times, Kirei, but they provide me with enough amusement that I could tolerate them here and there." He ran a hand through his golden locks as he said it, exuding confidence that is at once painful and embarrassing for you to witness. You almost wanted to look away.

You don't trust what he just said. You don't trust anything about Gilgamesh anymore.

Said detestable creature paused, widening his smile before he asked again, "So, would you like to have brunch with me, Kirei?" He posed that question with a tone that implied that you cannot possibly refuse him, that you wouldn't dare.

So you didn't. You simply gave him a grave nod and waited for him to take his leave.

As soon as he did go away, you find yourself overcome by sudden fatigue so you sat down on one of the pews, resting your entire weight on it.

Though not exactly an optimist, you allowed yourself to look at the bright side: at least Gilgamesh started calling you again on a first-name basis.

But, somehow, that return to old habits wasn't comforting either.

There was just something _different_ about the way Gilgamesh addressed you with your first name earlier, and the fact that you couldn't put your finger on it filled you with yet another wave of disquiet that no amount of false prayer is going to appease.

* * *

 **Eight years ago**

You watch in reflective silence as Gilgamesh empties a bottle of bourbon by gulping down the last quarter of its contents for a full minute without pause. He then wobbles slightly as he walks to your direction before he slowly collapses on the sofa next to you. He makes a pleased sound at the back of his throat as he lays his head on your shoulder, obviously unmindful of his actions, as he presses harder until you had no choice but to move your body to accommodate him more space. Instead of his head falling on the sofa's cushion, however, Gilgamesh opts to rests his head on your lap and he curls his body into a position akin to that of a tired cat. The surprisingly accurate comparison almost makes you choke back an amused laugh but you remind yourself just in time that you shouldn't make fun of the King of Heroes even in his most drunken state, even if he is sleeping contentedly below you like he has done this many times before.

This is the first time you have seen Gilgamesh drunk to a point that he just couldn't stand upright anymore which is why he is now resting on your lap. It's eerie, and it doesn't seem right. You don't know how else to react, though, so you stay still.

This is also the first time you have seen him in a very vulnerable position. The origin of myth rubs his head against your lap repeatedly, probably trying to get cosier in an otherwise awkward pose, and then lets out a huff of dissatisfaction when he doesn't find it. In response, you grab the nearest pillow on your left and then place a gentle hand below Gilgamesh's head to keep it suspended for a while as you carefully slid the pillow on your lap. Once you've accomplished that, Gilgamesh willingly drops his head on the pillow you prepared, and he lets out another pleased sound, murmuring something that accompanies your name. Intrigued, you ask him about it but he simply rolls to his back so you can see more of his face. His eyes are actually only half-closed and he regards you with a small smile. You stare into those eyes and wait for his response.

And Gilgamesh just chuckles, coughing as he did. You lean back slightly, dismayed, and find your hand resting on his stomach absentmindedly. You quickly snatch it away but Gilgamesh grabs your wrist and forces your hand back down.

He commands you, "Rub me until I fall to slumber, mongrel."

You honestly want to start laughing at him because this is absurd. Gilgamesh is clearly not thinking at all, and the instruction itself is preposterous and not as intimidating as Gilgamesh would have liked. Still, you oblige. Slowly, you moved the palm of your hand across the plane of his stomach. You could feel his abdominal muscles clenching at the contact, even through the coarse thickness of his gaudy animal-printed shirt. You hear him grumbling so you tear your gaze from the designs of his clothing to peer back at is face which twists now in what you guessed was annoyance.

"Not like that," Gilgamesh's voice is barely a whisper and he speaks as if he is in a hurry. "Like how you would pet an animal, you imbecile."

You fight the urge to ask if the King of Heroes now views himself as a pet and simply obey by cupping your hand slightly so that your fingers curve on top of his stomach. You use more of your fingers now, instead of just your palm, as you repeat the languid motions enough until it warrants a rather pleased moan from Gilgamesh.

His head sinks further into the pillow while he brings up his legs so that his knees pointed at the ceiling. Gilgamesh keeps his eyes closed now but you could tell he is still very much awake. You keep stroking him as you slowly allowed for your mind to go blank. This is so much like prayer; a mindless ritual that could be relaxing if you focus enough. A few minutes passed and Gilgamesh is guiding your hand lower and you watch as your palm settles on his crotch. Thinking nothing unusual about it, you continue performing your task, and stroke him down there in the same rhythm. You think this is what the King of Heroes wanted and you didn't exactly feel there is any real reason to deny him.

His growing erection doesn't faze you. It is a curious thing to witness Gilgamesh's corporeal body express such a normal human reaction such as this one, but it wasn't entirely impossible. You squeeze him by his crotch, testing the tangibility of it, and you hear his breath hitch a little as you do. A few more seconds pass before Gilgamesh suddenly sits upright, brushes away your hand from its placement, and takes the pillow from your lap. He gets up from the sofa, barely looking at you and still wobbling from his drunkenness as he announces, "I'm taking possession of your bed. Rest here."

He leaves. You remain where you are, both dumbfounded and very amused. You stare down at the hand that touched the King of Heroes so intimately a while ago and you feel slightly...enlightened. Is it possible that Gilgamesh felt violated by the unexpected direction of that massage? Was that not what he was asking for you to perform? You allow yourself a small chuckle as you slouch a little so you can lean your head against the ledge of the sofa. Closing your eyes, you try not to think about the almost sheepish way Gilgamesh stood up and left, as if he was overcome with shame for almost letting his control of the situation slip.

What you wouldn't give to see the King of Heroes truly lose more of that control.


End file.
